Chapter 1

His name was Marcus Rogers and as he drove his silver Jeep Gladiator Rubicon through the snowy landscape he mused on the things that had brought him to this point. Up until recently his biggest aspiration had been buying the extremely expensive but incredibly badass Jeep pickup he now found himself blasting through snow drifts with. Then about a week ago everything had changed, literally everything. 

He’d woken up to find his house empty, his wife, the kids, the animals, hell even the frog were all gone. Unfortunately his cell phone and the wifi were also gone so he had no way to contact anyone. A quick glance out the window also revealed that not only had his family left him but they had taken the neighbourhood with them. Now even by Marcus’ standards that was a little extreme.

Interestingly they had left his beloved Jeep, so named Goliath, after a couple of other silver badass suits of electronic armour. They had also left all his weapons, survival gear, and food. So with no electricity and nothing else to do Marcus loaded his standard Weird Shit Going On kit into the Jeep and started driving.

He didn’t really have a destination so he decided to head downtown. The Jeep had a full tank of gas he knew wouldn’t last long so he decided to look for a gas station. It became quickly apparent that some serious shit had gone down while he’d been asleep. The city had a very post-apocalyptic feel to it, what with most of the buildings being destroyed and the worse than usual condition of the road underneath the Jeep’s big tires. 

Shifting the manual transfer case into four high Marcus turned onto what he thought might have been the highway, admittedly it had been hard to tell before but without regular snow removal it was even worse. By now the heater was blowing hot and heavy so Marcus figured he was safe to roll down the window without freezing. He dug the disposable vape from his pocket and puffed away while wondering if he’d be able to find more.

The big Jeep rounded a corner to reveal that downtown had not faired much better than his own neighbourhood although there appeared to be more standing buildings. Hey, that was a good sign. Not having his phone to stream music Marcus flipped through the FM stations in a futile hope for something.

At one point he thought he heard an emergency broadcast but it quickly faded to static. He cursed the really cool but completely useless bullet antenna he had installed. It was still early morning which this far north meant really dark and really cold. Except for the Jeep’s v6 engine and 33 inch tires crunching on snow there wasn’t a sound.

The LED headlights played tricks with the shadows, a couple of times forcing Marcus to stop and take a second look. It was becoming quickly apparent that there was no one else around. Many of the buildings looked long abandoned, with some even appearing burnt out. 

Suddenly waking up fully Marcus locked up the brakes, causing the Jeep to slide for several heart pounding seconds. Last night he had gone to bed with a family in a lively city that had definitely not been abandoned and clearly through some type of violence. This meant one of two things.

The first possibility was that much like Bruce Campbell’s Ash he had slept too long while the world fell apart around him. Which was highly unlikely because his kids wouldn’t even let him sleep until noon, let alone through the apocalypse. Which pretty much ruled out that theory, plus why were his house and Jeep untouched while everything around them got absolutely wrecked.

Which meant that through the process of Quantum Bullshit, Marcus, his house, and his Jeep had been teleported overnight to an alternate and also post-apocalyptic Earth. This meant that more than likely his family, his life, and his earth were continuing on without him, possibly only a step away but also possibly an infinite away. This realisation pissed Marcus off to no end but he also realised that sitting in the middle of an empty intersection, wasting gas, was not a productive use of his time.

So he started driving again and decided to make his way to his favourite gas station, because why not. He also decided to take his Sig Sauer P320 M17 out of the center console and reminded himself to take the Mossberg 464-SPX 30-30 out the backseat lockbox. He found himself wishing at the moment he was American rather than Canadian so he could have a cooler rifle. 

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

He also lamented the ten round mag cap as he put the M17 into the cupholder. He looked back up from that quick action just in time to lock up the brakes again as something darted across the road, once again causing the Jeep to go into a heart stopping slide as the off road radials fought for traction. Throwing the Gladiator into park Marcus grabbed the pistol from the cupholder and jumped out scanning the predawn gloom just outside the white zone of the obnoxiously bright LEDs. 

The thing that had forced him to stop came bounding through the snow, pausing to bark at a comically surprised Marcus before hopping into the Jeep through the open driver’s door. Once safely in the passenger seat the shape barked again, as if to say “we should leave now.”

Stunned into obedience Marcus climbed back into the driver’s seat and placed the pistol into the cupholder. Once he had the Jeep moving and took another puff of his vape Marcus finally looked at his new passenger. It was in fact, a dog, a rather funny but cute looking Corgi and Husky cross.

Short stubby legs, long thick winter fur, huge pointed ears, brown and white colouration, with bright blue eyes. Of all the things that had happened Marcus was most impressed with the fact that those stubby legs had propelled the round fluff ball up into the Jeep with no difficulty. He had known adults that had struggled to get in.

The dog appeared to have no collar or symbol of ownership and since it was the first living thing he’d seen since waking up that morning Marcus decided not to argue with the company. Instead he turned his eyes back to the road, they were nearing the gas station. Once again the shadows played tricks on his eyes as he made the turn into the parking lot.

Surprisingly the building looked relatively undamaged, all four pumps standing and only the glass in one door broken. It had clearly been looted but not too thoroughly he thought as he put the Jeep in park. The dog gave him one of those forty five degree head tilts as he got out. “I just need to grab a few things and stock up, you staying here?”

The dog raised an eyebrow in a way that suggested both humanity and incredulity. So Marcus chalked it up to the human tendency to project onto non humans and got out. Staring at the rear door for a second he remembered his rifle and retrieved it from the lock box, then he remembered his pistol and reached to the front cup holder. All the while the dog was staring at him like he was crazy, it was honestly kind of unnerving.

Holstering the pistol and hefting the rifle Marcus made his way through the ever increasing light towards the broken glass door. The wind had begun to pick up, bringing with it the creepy sounds of blown snow and emptiness, Marcus took one last look around but seeing nothing stepped through the door.

Once inside the silence became deafening, except it was silent. There was something else in the store with him. The sun was rising rapidly and reflecting off the snow that he now realized had a rather disgusting grey tinge to it. Shadows in the store stretched and distorted into horror movie shapes, almost seeming to reach for him.

Marcus decided now would be a good time to turn on his flashlight. Just like with the Jeep’s LED’s a brilliant white light fought back the shadows and brought the store into stark contrast. It also had the unfortunate side effect of royally pissing off the other humanoid figure in the store.

“Fuck me, I’m in a zombie apocalypse....” Marcus took a step back, “Are you the kind of zombie that can talk?”

The zombie shrieked in response and started towards him.

“Are you the fast or slow kind?” It started running.

Marcus took in a slow breath, sighted the black lever action on the zombie’s cranium and as he exhaled, squeezed the trigger. An ear shattering blast accompanied the blinding light, leaving Marcus momentarily blind and deaf, stupid lying Hollywood. He didn’t feel undead teeth biting into his flesh as his ears rang and he tried to blink away the light, so he must not have missed.

“Well, at least now I know headshots work and its fast zombies.” He looked down at the lifeless corpse at his feet.

Looking around and finding no other walking dead Marcus lowered the rifle, shook the last few bells from his ears and went shopping. 

The store had been mostly cleaned out, but there were still a few treasures to be found. Energy drinks, disposable vapes, energy bars, and an honest to goodness newspaper. It was dated two years before Marcus went to sleep at home, and the headline was the rather uninspired “THE DEAD WALK!” written all in caps with an exclamation point.

“From what I saw they can run, and they won.” Chuckling at his own rhyme Marcus armpitted the newspaper and headed back outside.

The sun had fully crested the horizon now and brought with it a stark, grey clarity that just accented how shitty this version of earth had become. Not wanting to hang around longer than he had to, Marcus threw his bounty into the back seat, grabbed his pry bar and ripped the cover off the nearest gas pump.

Underneath he found the manual pump, which he used to fill his four GI style Jerry Cans. This done, he put the Jerry Cans back in the bed of the pickup and returned to the driver’s seat, where he found the dog looking at him with a very impatient look. Marcus again chalked this up to his imagination and put the Jeep into drive.

Deciding there was no more reason to stick around an abandoned city that might be full of zombies Marcus turned onto the highway and headed south. It was a four hour drive to the next major city under normal circumstances but a lack of urgency and a desire to conserve fuel meant it was probably closer to seven. Apparently happy with this decision, the dog turned three circles before curling up on the passenger seat. Marcus wished he had some music as he blew a cloud of cola flavoured vapour out into the frozen air.

From somewhere behind them something roared, Marcus rolled up the window and pressed the gas a little harder.